


Just Skin: The Artist

by montes-carpatus (Carpathyah)



Series: Just Skin Series [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carpathyah/pseuds/montes-carpatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan is an artist and Brandon is his canvas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Skin: The Artist

**Author's Note:**

> Just Skin is a collection of drabbles based on romantic intimacy between two or more people. Concentrating on unpopular ships. Not necessarily smut.
> 
> AN: Inspired by my current relationship with my partner and my habit of leaving my art materials scattered everywhere.

It had become a habit in their shared apartment, to step over the pots of paints and wet canvases. It was never a surprise to see the acrylic fingerprints on the wall, or those that will never come off. Paintbrushes of all different sizes were left in the sink to be washed. If Jordan was particularly fanciful, the house would smell of turpentine that accompanied his oil paintings, leaving Brandon to run around to open all the windows to the maximum in fear of intoxication. 

What Jordan painted was always some kind of poem. Some were soft and romantic with fields of flowers or fantasies of snowy landscapes. Some were darker and accompanied stressful periods of being over-worked. They looked violent and the movement of the swirls of paint made Brandon feel like he was getting punched in the gut. 

Of course, he preferred his softer portraits and landscapes. He loved to watch Jordan paint, the way his palette was organized in different corners of the wooden board. One corner for the shades he mixed with blacks and grays, one that was either pure white or the main colour mixed in. He kept his palettes neatly in a box. His easel in one particular spot of the living room, catching only the sun in the afternoon hours. 

It was a surprise one day to see Jordan laying on the floor, mumbling things that Brandon didn’t understand.

"I don’t know what to paint, what size of canvas to buy, what colours to use. I’m having an artist block," he complained. Brandon could barely help him. He was inexperienced with the fine arts, especially painting. 

"I’m sure you’ll find inspiration soon," he would comfort before helping him off the floor to give him a kiss to tell him that he would be there for him no matter what.

Jordan was in a slump, he didn’t paint for days, nor did he doodle creatures and flowers. One night did Brandon find Jordan painting a canvas black, layer after layer. It concerned him and he went online to help find paintings to draw inspiration from. Photographs, comics, food, objects, anything to might give Jordan’s creativity back. 

Until he found a particular object on a sex shop website. He had thought that maybe their sex life was getting boring and he needed to spice things up a bit to get him back in the mood of painting. He entered his address and the package was due in a few days. 

The package came discreetly in a brown box. There was a brush and a little jar of what looked like black paint. He planned to give it to him that night while they were getting ready to make love. Jordan was in their bedroom, stripping of his work clothes and lounging in his red briefs, waiting for Brandon. Hidden behind his back, he walked up to Jordan to kiss him. He lightly stroked the side of his neck, giving him shivers. 

"Jordan, I know you’ve been in a block lately so I got you this," he said as he showed him the kit. "Let my body be your canvas." Jordan settled the glass jar on the night table, feeling the bristles on his finger tips. They were soft, thin, and would glide along Brandon’s bronzed flesh perfectly. Brandon took off his clothes until his black boxers. He crawled up onto the bed, Jordan following him with the brush in his hands. 

Brandon held the glass jar tightly in his hands as Jordan dipped the brush into it. It smelled of chocolate and raspberries. Brandon flinched as Jordan brushed the paint onto his arm. He did circles that turned into suns. He sat crossed legged in the middle of the bed and let Jordan work around him.

"You are my sun," Jordan whispered, putting dots in each circle. He dipped once more and went for his chest. He painted the waves of the ocean, following the curve of Brandon’s collar bone. Slowly, he went to his other arm, drawing flowers and leaves down to his hands. He gave details to the petals.

Brandon was barely conscious, his mind drifted into a near comatose state. He was feeling the bristles stroke his skin in the most relaxing way possible. Only would he open his eyes to see what Jordan was painting. He would whisper his name and he would break from his work to kiss him. 

Brandon could feel himself lose patience every time he opened his eyes to watch his partner paint. His body was beautifully covered in the chocolate paint with flowers and tribal drawings. Jordan put the brush aside to give him a deeper kiss. Brandon wanted to touch him, feel his soft, frail, pale body under his finger tips. He wanted to paint his own marks on him, in areas that only the artist would know.

Jordan made his way down his neck to the tides of the waters, licking up the chocolate. Brandon bit his bottom lip, wanting to move his arm so he can tangle his fingers in his styled hair but he kept calm. Occasionally, he would release a moan or a whimper as Jordan finished licking off the paint on his arms and chest to clean up on his thighs. 

"God fucking dammit, Jordan," he would curse. His saliva covered hand reached for Jordan’s scalp. He gripped at his golden brown hair as he licked at his inner thighs. His erection begged to be freed from his boxers. "No, Jordan, I can’t take this teasing anymore," he panted. It didn’t matter that there was still chocolate on his thighs, all he wanted to pull him close and make love to him.He went onto his knees and brought Jordan’s face, close to his to kiss him again. His tongue tasting the dark chocolate and raspberry liquid on his lips. He pulled off his red briefs, to make him squeal and moan like Jordan did to him. 

"Brandon, fuck," Jordan swore, gripping onto his shoulders as his larger hands stroked him. His pale skin had marks of the chocolate on his chest from skimming over his thighs to suck and slick up the older man’s member.

Bruises covered Jordan’s neck by the end. Brandon’s hips were sore as he gripped onto the man’s waist in his release. Leftover chocolate covered Jordan’s thighs. The room smelled of sweat, sex and chocolate. An odd but satisfying mix. 

By the next evening, there were new blank canvases and the return of the smell of fresh oil paints being mixed with cold wax medium along with the remaining scent of gesso. Brandon was relieved. 

"I guess my inspiration was next to me all along," Jordan commented. Brandon lightly smacked his arm for how corny that was, but none the less, it was life living with an artist.


End file.
